


Exiled

by Merfilly



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Cannibalism, Community: spook_me, Gen, Halloween, Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2514965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Warder and some of his men face their punishment out along the Barrier Isles. Only, it may be more of a punishment than they suspected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exiled

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Spook Me, meant to be at least slightly creepy. Both prompts below contain subject matter that may not set well with people.
> 
> My Prompts were [This](http://s879.photobucket.com/user/spook_me/media/Spook%20Me%20Anything%20Goes/last_meal_by_artofjustaman-d69p6nr_zps8cde9c70.jpg.html) and [This](http://s879.photobucket.com/user/spook_me/media/Spook%20Me%20Anything%20Goes/feature159_pic01_zpsd3e021fa.jpg.html).

The rocky beach had visibility for dragonlengths upon dragon lengths as the riders aimed for their landing. Yet none too far away there were low dunes and hills, dotted with eyes. The dragons making this delivery flicked their tails and wingtips, but the riders dismissed it as due to the unwilling passengers they were bringing to exile.

"Quickly, now!" Brown rider C'mith chivvied his riders to cut loose the supplies so they could all get back to their Weyr. Prisoner escort was never a pleasant task; the Barrier Isles were desolate places far removed from comfort and peace. It was unnerving to the Thread-scored veteran to see such open space.

"We only did what we were told!" the Warder among the new exiles called out, but not a rider listened. Rape and murder were serious offenses, and not tolerated in civilized holds. Within minutes, each dragon, with eyes whirling orange and red, were aloft and winking out of the skies.

Six men, none with family to share their burden, looked from the sea to the hills, terrified by the openness of the land.

"There will be caves," the Warder called out, still terrified by the new life ahead of him, yet knowing they needed to reach safety. The charts for Thread had been studied, and the men would have no more than four days to find cover before Fall.

Upon the low dunes, movement was seen as the men started to gather up their meager supplies, lending some heart to the situation. Men and women alike had been dropped through these isles, and it was presumed that some might have reared families. Perhaps, the Warder thought, these men now showing themselves would lead them to a proper Hold.

"Hello!" he called, assuming leadership as was proper. His men had never held rank of any sort, after all.

"Don't like this," the blocky man to his left said when no call of greeting came back.

"Stay alert," the Warder said swiftly to all of his men. There were five of the newcomers, but six of the new exiles. As the natives drew closer, the Warder felt the skin on the back of his neck prickling. What kind of hide was that, and who made clothing of naught but hide anyhow? It had a hue and texture to it at even this distance that looked like neither wher nor wherry. Something was amiss in this greeting from the local peoples.

His fears were realized when the one in the lead starting shaking out a parcel, which proved to be a net, weighted for casting on the ends. Two others among the group started doing likewise, and the Warder felt uneasy about their chances, especially as the pair on the ends started spinning thongs with weights upon the ends. He'd heard of hunting bolas, but to face the dangerous things was another matter all together.

"RUN! Down the beach; follow!" he bellowed to his people.

He had no idea how long they ran, or when the ones behind them stopped. When he found an outcropping of rocks that looked defensible, he pulled his group in, and immediately set the one who was known for his crossbow work to guard, and let the others rest. They would need better shelter, but for now… they had lost their supplies along the way and something about those men said trouble worse than any they had ever been a part of.

"I don't understand."

The Warder looked over at the one that had spoken, and then picked up a rock, throwing it with a flick of his wrist to bruise the man's arm.

"What's to understand? They are dangerous and sought to take us prisoner! We must find shelter, one we can defend, with fresh water!"

There was grumbling, but not a man among them had the nerve to unseat his authority, and so he began planning, looking at the lay of the land, for how to defend themselves.

* * *

The Warder arranged his men in a second location by nightfall, set up the guard rotation, and decided that one way or another, he would find out the mystery behind their would-be attackers. He could, and would, overcome the situation, just as he had risen to power in his native hold.

All those ambitions seemed as dust, though. when he came awake to find the raiders already among their bordering rocks. The guard he'd posted was trussed and gagged he saw just before a cudgel took awareness fully from him.

* * *

The next thing the Warder knew was the stench of an abattoir around him. He was bound, hanging from his wrists, and felt as if he would suffocate from either the position or the fumes. His eyes blearily looked around, and he saw all of his men but one hanging in similar straits, while a butcher table awaited… with a skinned body.

He could not help the convulsive vomiting as he realized the hide he'd seen on the men was probably human, and that was possibly his sixth man. What monstrosity was this, that they lived near the sea, yet subjected men to such a horrible fate?

A large, burly man in nothing more than a hide apron came in, tools at the ready to finish the butchery job, while another man stepped in to behind him to inspect the captives. He stopped in front of the Warder, smiling up with an almost greasy, conniving look.

"You… lead?" he asked in strangely accented words. 

"Ye…yes," the Warder answered, even as another man came conscious and retched on himself, other functions cutting loose as well.

"Keep. Teach words again. Lucky, you. No women, or we would just kill you," the man said, before snapping his fingers. The butcher stopped, and came to lift the Warder down, attaching a leash to a collar around his throat. "Come."

Blindly, the Warder did as told, stumbling out with his captor… and his rescuer. He did not know why they ate human flesh here, but he would do all it took to remain useful and off the butcher's table. It was the only comfort he held as a scream sounded inside the abattoir.


End file.
